


darling everything's on fire

by WonderstruckSwan



Category: The Society (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Episode 8: Poison, M/M, Thanksgiving Dinner Disaster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 08:40:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19169710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderstruckSwan/pseuds/WonderstruckSwan
Summary: Sam thought the hardest thing for him would be to find someone who loves him and he loves back. And now that he's found him, it turns out, the hardest thing he'd have to face would be losing him.Or, canon divergence where Grizz eats the Pumpkin Pie Of Death at Thanksgiving.





	darling everything's on fire

Sam has been surprised by a lot since this all began. Surprised by how self-sufficient they’ve become, surprised to learn Becca is pregnant, more than surprised to hear that someone murdered Cassandra, and that Greg Dewey of all people was the one to pull the trigger. He’s almost become used to surprises, or at least come to expect them, oxymoronic as that thought it, but he knows now not to take the semi-mundane and almost predictable life he was living at home for granted, to prepare himself for the unexpected.

But he can never prepare himself for learning that Grizz is frankly, an amazing kisser.

Sam has kissed boys before, years ago, when he was 14 and kissed a boy named Alex in the back of the school, before Alex thought his friends saw him and ran for the hills-or to his house, more accurately. Sam briefly wonders where Alex is, knowing he didn’t come on the field trip that sent them here, but it’s gone as soon as it came; there’s no time for thoughts like that, only time to kiss Grizz.

His lips are soft, he kisses him with just the right amount of fervour to make it sweet and it feels like warmth is spreading through him. Unlike his first time, which was fraught with anxiety, his heart racing against his chest and his hands shaking as he knew they could be caught, here he just feels peaceful, and a little excited, as he pecks as Grizz’s lips again and again.

Grizz finally moves and he feels his arms around his waist, pulling him closer against him. Then he’s falling forwards, his chest landing softly against Grizz’s. He laughs against his lips but doesn’t break the kiss for long, needing to feel the reassurance that he’s still there. Grizz’s hands run across his stomach and around to his back, trailing to his waist, where they find the waistband of his jeans and he stops suddenly, his fingers tensely curling.

“Do you want to?” he sees him say. He takes his hands up to sign for him. “With me?”

Sam nods, not even hesitating. Seems he won’t die a perfect Christian virgin after all.

Or maybe he will, since before Grizz can even unbutton either of their jeans, Sam feels his phone buzzing in his back pocket. He grimaces, wanting to stay here with Grizz, away from an empty town and work shifts and his cold eyed brother, and finally do something he never thought he would. Unfortunately, Grizz’s wandering hands find their way to his ass, his fingers brushing against the phone just as it vibrates with another message.

“Should you get that?” Grizz asks sheepishly. Sam pouts, very much not wanting to answer it, but he should. Ever since what happened with Becca, he’s become aware of the fact that any simple text could be an alert that she’s gone into labour, or something else…

He kneels up, Grizz’s legs between his, and checks the messages; from Becca (who else, he thinks), telling him Thanksgiving dinner is ready, and another asking where he is, and another just as he opens the phone asking if he’s coming.

He lets out a long breath, his shoulders sagging. He should go and really, part of him wants to, pained at the image of Becca sitting alone at the table, as pregnant as she is, avoiding everyone’s looks. But… Grizz is sitting there looking so damn good, waiting patiently with his big eyes up on him, his hands rubbing circles on his legs.

He looks down at his phone with a resigned sigh. Grizz might be new and exciting, but Becca is his best and oldest (and probably only if he’s honest) friend. Sisters before misters, isn’t that the expression.

“It’s Becca,” he explains while signing. “They’ve started handing out Thanksgiving dinner.”

“Oh,” Grizz says. “Do you… do you want to go.”

“Yeah,” he replies. “It’s not fair to her if I don’t.”

“Yeah, okay,” Grizz says as Sam climbs off him and the bed. He follows, clumsily standing up and knocking into a dresser with his gangly limbs. Sam stifles a laugh. “Maybe I could, come with you-go with you?”

“Really?” he signs without thinking. Selfishly, he forgets about Becca and the baby and everyone except Grizz and the blush creeping across his face.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” he replies. “It was too forward, I’m sorry-”

“No,” he interrupts. He comes over to him, tilting his head back to look up at him. “I want you to come. Just…” He wracks his brain for a way to explain. He can’t be seen as Becca’s baby’s father and also Grizz’s boyfriend. “Can we keep this private for now?”

It’s a half-truth, which is a close relation of a lie, and Grizz is sharp enough to catch on soon, but all he needs is to survive tonight.

“Sure,” he agrees. A slightly cheeky smile turns up on the corner of his mouth. “But on the way…” He takes his hand delicately, keeping his eyes on Sam’s face to check if it’s okay. He squeezes it back, telling him it is.

When Sam shows up at Thanksgiving with Grizz standing behind him, Becca is surprised, but she smiles warmly at him, invites him to sit down with them and goes out of her way to include him in conversations. Sam’s heart swells every time she tries to include Grizz. His amazing, kind best friend with a heart bigger than the whole town going out of her way to talk to his shy, awkward, kind of boyfriend.

He naively hopes that when things go back to normal, this is how they’ll always be.

Dessert rolls around, three different pumpkin pies are handed around, but while Grizz digs into a slice, Becca turns her nose up at it. She always loved pumpkin pie but her baby doesn’t.

“This baby better appreciate the shit I’m going through for it,” she says. She smiles, but it’s pained and doesn’t meet her eyes.

“It will,” Sam assures her. Becca nods and looks over his shoulder. She taps Sam lightly and gestures behind him, to where Grizz is. Grizz blushes slightly when Sam looks at him, biting his lip awkwardly.

“I was just saying,” he says, trying his best to sign. “That Becca is making me appreciate my own mom a hell of a lot more.” Sam laughs. “I mean, who knows what she had to give up for me for nine whole months. You’re a badass, Becca.”

“I don’t know,” she says bashfully. “I just want it to be over.” Sam and Grizz look at each other awkwardly while Sam rubs what he hopes is a comforting hand up and down her back, hoping she keeps quiet about the baby. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to handle that conversation with Grizz but he certainly won’t be able to now.

Thankfully, Becca keeps quiet about the baby and they manage to get through the rest of Thanksgiving, even with the painful “political satire” shown in Lexie and Bean’s improv group. Sam finds himself cringing in his seat, both at Lexie’s subpar acting and lack of subtlety and more so at the unfair jab at Allie, who responds by walking out, and to her credit, she leaves with her dignity intact. No tears, no screaming, just walking out with her head high, apparently deaf to Lexie’s pitiful taunts that carry on even after Allie leaves. Some people cringe or cower in their seats, some cast glares in Lexie’s direction but say nothing, likely afraid of what will happen if they speak out, and some assholes lean back and smile, laughing and shouting what he supposes are suggestions or encouragement, confident now that Allie can’t hear them.

His fist clenches but he doesn’t move. Becca taps him on the shoulder to grab his attention.

“Do you want to go home?” she asks, signing as her lips move. “I couldn’t eat anything else and it’s getting a little rowdy in here.”

“Yeah,” he says, growing more and more uncomfortable, but there’s one reason he doesn’t want to go and it’s sitting behind him finishing off a slice of pumpkin pie. He turns around to look at Grizz; his eyes are trained on the table, pushing crumbs around his plate with the tip of his finger. “Hey.” He taps his shoulder, causing Grizz to look up at him, pushing his hair away from his eyes. “We’re going to go now,” he says, signing as he speaks. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, yeah sure,” Grizz replies, signing too. “See you later. Bye, Becca.”

“Bye Grizz,” she says. It takes more effort than it should for her to stand, even with Sam helping her. He tries to shield her from prying or wandering eyes as much as he can, covering as much of her as possible with his body, tightening his arm around her shoulders. On his way out, he spies his brother, watching him through cold, narrow eyes, and he tries not to throw up. They’ve kept their distance since he kicked him out, this is likely the first time they’ve made eye contact in months. Beside him is Elle, her frame small and face pale, and it makes Sam’s stomach turn. Was she always so pale? He doesn’t know what his brother is capable of, but he knows what he’s not capable of, and one of those things is love and care.

Once they’re outside, he feels Becca heave a heavy sigh, filling her lungs with the cold night hair that’s refreshingly different from the packed church.

“Hey,” she asks him after nudging him in the ribs gently. “Since when are you and Grizz friends?”

“Not long,” he admits. She nods and licks her lips, her fingers picking at the fabric of her coat.

“And are you friends?” she asks. “Or are you two a little more than that?”

“What do you mean?” he asks in response.

“I know it’s none of my business,” she admits. “But do you like him?” The question hits him hard in the chest, causing his hands to shake and he wishes he could just stick them in his pockets to make them stop.

“No,” he lies. “He’s just a friend.” His eyes go unwillingly to Becca’s prominent baby bump. He always thought if he had to choose between anyone else and Becca, it would be Becca without hesitation, and he stands by it, but he didn’t realise how difficult it would be. He looks up at her and notices how pale she is, and how she’s swaying on her feet. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she says. “I think I just need to go home.”

However, there seems to be no rest for them, since a few hours after they get home and he gets Becca settled in bed, she sits up, gaping in either pain or shock, he doesn’t know. She complains about her back and stomach hurting, and his heart skips a beat, or several. He helps her into her coat and helps them hurry to the hospital, wishing for the hundredth time that he had access to a car. He only hopes he can get her there in time; he can’t deliver a baby by himself and certainly not on the sidewalk.

When they get there, the hospital is already overrun, people pale and writhing on beds. He recognises Allie, watching her retch into a bowl with Will at her side, and when he sees his brother of all people standing by a limp figure on a bed, he assumes Elle is here too. His stomach drops as he looks around him, people on the beds either vomiting, convulsing or lying limply, all pale and their hair sticking to their foreheads.

“Becca?” he sees Kelly ask, her eyes wide with worry, dark shadows under her eyes red-rimmed, her face pale not from illness but from stress and worry. “Have you been throwing up, either of you?”

“No, it’s my stomach and my back,” Becca explains, signing along with shaking hands. “I think it’s the baby.”

“You can’t have this baby now,” Kelly says, as though she can stop labour simply by willing it so. “Okay we need… we need to get you away from all these sick people, come here.” Taking her other side, Kelly leads her to a bed far enough away from everyone else, while at the same time barking unknown orders at someone, he assumes Gordie, given that the boy grabs a book almost as soon as she starts shouting and starts flipping through pages whilst half-running towards Becca’s bed.

It takes a while, but Kelly gets Becca settled and her breathing regulated, instructing her to copy her while she strokes her hair softly. Despite it all, Sam almost laughs; she might see his own feelings for Grizz, yet she’s oblivious to the soft admiration and wide eyes of Kelly when she looks at her, the way she will go out of her way to cup her cheek and the delicate smile on the girl’s face even when Becca is fighting off both a panic attack and preterm labour, her face is two shades paler and sweat beading on her forehead. Becca gets settled, Gordie telling them that she should be fine if she just stays in bed, and Sam finally allows himself to breathe again.

That is, until he sees Kelly rushing to help another person and his eyes follow her instinctively to see who came in. Jason enters, dragging a barely conscious Grizz who leans on him heavily, dry heaving, his face chalk white. He watches helplessly as Kelly and Jason help him onto a bed, his long arms and legs dangling weakly, his stomach feeling like it’s dropped through the floor and plummeting to the ground below.

“Oh no,” he says. “Oh shit no.” He feels Becca tap his hand frantically and turns to look at her.

“Go to him,” she says, not giving him a moment to protest. “I’m fine. Gordie’s here and Kelly can look after me. Go to him.” He thanks her and hugs her firmly but gently, hoping not to hurt her any more than she already is, and runs over to Grizz’s bed, not even thinking to be cautious of Jason or anyone else looking at him. All he cares about his Grizz; his eyes half open, his lips moving slightly, his long hair sticking to his forehead and cheeks. He sees recognition spark in his eyes as he approaches and he lifts his head slightly.

“Sam,” he sees him say. He struggles to sit up, despite Kelly’s hand on his chest urging him to lay down. “Sam.”

“I’m here,” he says, signing as well, though he’s not sure Grizz can see him properly. Grizz weakly reaches his hand out and Sam takes it, wincing at how cold and clammy it is. “I’m here, it’s going to be okay.”

“It hurts,” he says, curling in on himself. “It hurts so bad.”

“I know.” He curls his hand around Grizz’s. “I know, it’s okay.” He turns onto his side and coughs pitifully, white spit or something leaking out of his mouth. He raises his shaking hand and starts signing weakly.

“Don’t leave.” Grizz coughs again and it turns to retching. He sits up slightly, leaning on his elbow, his breathing getting faster and Jason passes Sam the bucket to hold under him while he vomits, white runny substance hitting the basin, then coming out in lumps, making Sam shudder. He pushes Grizz’s hair away from his face until he’s finished and he leans back of the pillows, gagging and taking in deep, fast breaths. “I’m scared,” he signs, his hands shaking, his lips barely moving. His eyes are glassy and he struggles to focus on Sam. “I’m scared.”

“It’s okay,” Sam assures him, using one hand to sign as best he can while the other strokes his hair. “You’re going to be okay.” Grizz overs him a weak smile before he gasps and doubles over in pain, his hand tightening around his stomach. Just before he closes his eyes, Sam sees the tears forming.

He looks up when Jason pats the mattress in front of him and sees Bean standing next to him, handing him a clear bottle of something red.

“He needs to stay hydrated,” she says, signing as well, albeit with difficulty. Not for the first time, he’s grateful that he learned to read lips. “Give him small sips.” Jason goes about helping Grizz into a sitting position, leaning his weak body against the back of the bed, moving a pillow for comfort while Sam pours the red liquid, Pedialyte, he reads, into a cup.

“Hey,” he says, sitting next to Grizz. His eyes are half open and he only responds by turning his head, the movement of his lips indicating some kind of response. “Here, drink this.” He holds the cup against Grizz’s lips, sighing in relief as he drinks it instinctively, Jason trying to stop him from spitting it back out. Grizz gags in disgust and shakes his head at the cup. “I know, I know, I’m sorry.” He taps the back of Grizz’s head until he looks at him, his eyes peeking out through shaggy, sweaty hair. “I know, I’m sorry. Just, please, for me.” Grizz looks at the Pedialyte and back to him, nodding slowly. “Bit by bit.”

It takes a while, but he manages to drink the whole cup, however once that problem is dealt with, Sam quickly finds another when he tries pushing Grizz’s hair away from his face.

“He’s burning up,” he says, looking over at Jason. “He’s burning up.”

“Stay there, I’ll get something,” Jason says and he turns around, looking through the shelves next to the bed before heading down the hall, probably to find some water. Sam keeps stroking Grizz’s arm forehead as while shifts on the bed, the irregular rise and fall of his chest showing him how hard breathing is for him. Jason returns with a damp, cold cloth and starts wiping Grizz’s forehead. Sam bites his lip, hoping it helps cool him down. Jason turns around, clearly speaking with someone else, worry creasing his face as he looks back at Grizz.

“I’ll take care of him,” Sam says. He nods, his hand hovering uncertainly. “It’s fine, go.” Jason hastily signs ‘thank you’ and hands him the cloth. He looks at Grizz again, eyes wide with worry before running off to wherever he’s been summoned.

Sam wipes Grizz’s forehead, taking note of the beads of sweat starting to form on his forehead. He pushes Grizz’s hair away from his face; his eyes are bright, but there’s at least a small spark of recognition in there. Sam is determined to keep him here.

“You’re okay,” he tells him. “You’re going to be okay.” He nods weakly before he lets out a few feeble coughs and Sam quickly concludes that he’s dehydrated again. He pours some Pedialyte into a cup and helps him drink, despite his gagging and whimpering, his shuddered breaths showing he’s having trouble keeping it down. Just as Grizz starts retching again he grabs the bucket and holds it underneath him, trying to give him what comfort he can by rubbing his back.

“It hurts,” he sees him say as he lays back on the pillow. “Stomach. Head. Everything.” Sam sighs and threads his fingers lightly through his hair, wincing at the heat rolling off his skill still. “Thank you. For being here.”

“Of course,” he replies. He cups his warm cheek and rubs his thumb under his eye, over the dark purple shadow.

 Grizz smiles weakly and his hand fumbles for Sam’s free one. His eyes start fluttering and Sam’s heart lurches.

“Grizz?” he asks, shaking his head gently. Grizz wrinkles his nose and turns onto his side, curling further in on himself. Sam takes his arm and shakes it, hopefully not rough enough to hurt him, but enough to keep him awake. “Grizz stay with me.” His lips move slightly and if he says something, Sam can’t read it. His head lolls to the side of his pillow, his grasp on Sam’s hand weakening until it goes limp and slips through his fingers. His heart in his mouth, Sam takes his chin and turns it gently, trying to look into Grizz’s half-closed eyes. There’s no spark in them, nothing to tell him he was still there, not even a fever shine. Just dull and empty, reflecting back at him like they were glass.

He turns frantically, praying for someone, anyone, to help him, and he sees Kelly passing him, her eyes raoming the room before landing on Grizz.

“He passed out,” Sam explains, running up to her. “Please, is there anything you can do?”

“I can put in an IV,” she tells him. “Just stay with him, I’ll grab it and come down.”

Sam sits and holds Grizz’s hand, trying to rouse him throughout the-thankfully short-wait for Kelly. He’s pushed to the side and has to cover his mouth to stop himself from screaming as she inserts the IV into his arm. It seems to take an eternity as she ties the tourniquet around his arm and swabs the spot above his vein with alcohol. He tears his eyes away from Kelly and looks at Grizz, his face whiter than the hospital sheets, making his dark hair stand out starkly, drawing attention to the purple shadows that look too much like bruises under his eyes.  He winces as Kelly inserts the needle into his arm, studying her face to try to find some bit of hope.

“Is he going to be okay?” he asks as Kelly takes a step back.

“Yeah,” she says. “Yeah I think so. I gave Elle an IV and she got better. I got Allie one too. Just keep an eye on him.” Before he can so much as look in the other direction, she takes his arm, smiling weakly. “I’ll take care of Becca. I’ll tell you if anything happens, but she’s fine.” Sam nods and collapses into the plastic chair next to him, taking comfort in the rise and fall of Grizz’ chest, however unsteady. That rise and fall means he’s still alive and he’ll fight like hell to keep it that way.

                                                                                                *****

It takes what he assumes is an hour before Grizz finds the strength to open his eyes again. He had been floating in between awake and sleep, feeling the pressure of a pillow under his head, and for a while someone had been stroking a delicate rhythm on the back of his hand. His body felt bonded to the mattress, his muscles to weak to move an inch.

When he does finally open his eyes, he’s greeted by too-bright white light that makes him briefly wonder if he died, until everything comes back into focus and he sees the pale walls and tiled sterile floor and white bedsheets of the hospital. For a moment he forgets everything, then it comes back to him, small pieces at first, which he puts together and the bigger picture forms almost instantly; the painful cramps in his stomach, him vomiting into the toilet, the foul taste of puke in his mouth, the fading in and out of consciousness as Jason took him to the hospital, holding onto Sam like a lifeline-

Sam.

He manages to lift his head just enough to see the occupant in the chair beside him; breathing a sigh of relief when he sees Sam in it, bent forward, his head pillowed on his arms and leaning on the mattress. Despite the lack of energy in his body, and how much he wishes to just stay still and go back to sleep, he moves his hand over to Sam’s head and strokes his hair gently, smiling fondly at him. His eyes move behind his eyelids as he dreams. He told Grizz that he still dreams with sound; he wonders if he’s dreaming of his voice.

Sam’s eyes crack open and he sits up once he sees Grizz awake, holding tightly to his hand.

“How are you feeling?” he asks. “Are you okay?”

“Better,” he says. He wishes he could sign for him but his free hand feels like lead at his side and in any case, his brain is too foggy to remember anything but the most basic phrases. Or, it seems, come up with answers which consist of more than three syllables. “Thanks. For staying.”

“Of course,” he replies. He hesitates for a moment before reaching out to touch his forehead. Grizz is confused for a second, but Sam just breaks into a relieved smile. “Your temperature’s normal.”

“Oh. Cool.” He knows that is not even close to what he should say, but he’s too tired to think and most conventions went out the window after they got off those damn buses. Now they’re eating breakfast in the cafeteria and there’s a forest at the town line and Thanksgiving dinner turns into an episode of ER and most importantly-Sam Elliot kisses him and stays by his bedside and holds his hand when he’s scared and is what he saw when he woke up. Maybe he can get used to that.

**Author's Note:**

> My first The Society fic, hope y'all liked! Comments and kudos appreciated x


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